Chapter 4

POV: Cristiano

The phone buzzed against the glass table like a ticking bomb.

MOTHER.

My jaw locked so tight my teeth ached. I grabbed the phone, tapped the speaker icon, and threw it back onto the table. I had zero secrets left to hide. I wanted Alisha to hear every single word.

"Cristiano!" My mother's sharp, piercing voice echoed off the walls of the apartment. "Where are you? The village elders and the football board members are already having breakfast in the main dining hall. Catalina has been in tears all morning!"

I looked across the couch at Alisha.

She sat clutching her silk robe tight over her chest. Her wide, beautiful eyes were filled with quiet tension. Seeing her sitting there, soft, curvy, and breathing the same air as me, made the anger in my chest burn hotter.

"Tell Catalina to dry her eyes and pack her bags, Mother," I said, my voice ice cold. "I am not signing anything."

"You will sign that contract at noon!" my mother barked, her voice rising in fury. "Catalina is a good, traditional girl from our village. She belongs in this family! You owe your bloodline an heir, Cristiano. If you don't show up by twelve, I will call the press conference myself. I will tell the entire country that money made you abandon your own mother!"

"You can call whoever you want," I said, leaning forward on the sofa, my dark eyes locked straight onto Alisha. "Because I am already with my true woman. And she is the only one who will ever carry my name."

Before my mother could scream another word, I hit the red button and cut the call.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

I picked up the phone, shoved it into my pocket, and looked at Alisha. All the arrogance I showed the world, all the fury I threw at my mother, it all vanished the second I met her gaze. Underneath the hard muscle and the superstar athlete name, my heart was pounding violently against my ribs.

I was terrified.

For three years, I had controlled every match, every boardroom, and every room I walked into. But right now, sitting in front of a woman with messy curls, soft skin, and a gorgeous body, I was completely at her mercy. If she pushed me away, I was finished.

"Alisha," I rasped, the desperation bleeding through my voice before I could stop it. "Please. I need you."

Alisha looked right at me. She didn't flinch. She saw past the fame, past the millions in my bank account, and looked straight into the soul of the man begging for her help.

She let out a soft breath, her chin lifting with quiet, fierce strength.

"I won't let her force you into that life," she said, her voice steady and clear. "And I'm not letting Catalina take you. I'm coming with you, Cristiano."

A wave of pure relief hit me so hard my chest caved in.

I reached out, wrapped my arm around her waist, and pulled her off the cushions directly against my body.

She gasped softly against my throat as I lifted her, carrying her into the hallway and pressing her gently against the bedroom door.

My mouth crashed down onto hers in a desperate, bruising kiss. It was deep, hungry, and loaded with three years of hidden desire. Her soft hands came up, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her lush, curvy body molded perfectly against my chest and hips.

Every touch proved she was real. She was choosing me.

I pulled back just enough to look into her flushed face, our breaths mixing in the narrow space.

"Pack only what you need for today," I murmured, my thumb stroking the hot skin of her cheek. "I’m buying you an entire new wardrobe the second we reach the mansion."

Alisha gave a small, breathless nod and stepped inside the bedroom to pull a duffel bag from her closet. I walked in behind her, watching every move of her hips as she packed.

The phone in my pocket buzzed twice.

I pulled it out and checked the screen. It was a text from Janes, my head of security:

“Reporters just arrived outside your estate gates. Your mother invited three local news channels. They are setting up live cameras on the driveway for noon.”

A cold rage burned through my blood. My mother wasn't just planning a private signing, she was staging a public execution of my career if I refused her.

Alisha stopped by the edge of the bed, her hands pausing over her clothes. She had caught the dark shift in my face.

"Cristiano?" she asked softly, turning to me. "What is it?"

"My mother called the news crews to the estate gates," I said, keeping my voice raw and honest. "She wants the whole country watching at noon."

I braced myself for her fear. I braced myself for her to change her mind and tell me to go alone.

Instead, Alisha zipped the duffel bag shut, lifted it onto her shoulder, and walked straight up to me. She placed a warm, gentle palm flat against the center of my chest, feeling my racing heart.

"Let them bring their cameras," she said softly, her eyes blazing with pure loyalty. "We are not running from anyone."

My breath hitched. In that single second, seeing her stand up for me against the world, I fell ten times deeper in love with her.

I took the bag from her shoulder and dropped it to the floor. I pulled her back against my chest, wrapping both of my heavy arms tight around her waist from behind. I pressed her soft, curvy body flush against mine, burying my face deep into the crook of her warm neck.

"Cristiano?" she murmured, her hands resting gently over mine on her stomach.

"Don't move," I whispered against her skin, my chest shaking with raw emotion as my dark eyes locked on the doorway. "Just let me hold you for one more second... before we go to war."